The first time came as a surprise. I was well aware of my husband’s penchant for hurting women. It’s not something he ever hid from me. Hence the club. His aggression, his need for control, his desire to dominate—it’s who he is. And when you make a commitment to a person, you commit to loving all of them.
If only he hadn’t lied to me. We said from the beginning, whatever happened between us happened. No matter what, we always tell the truth.
We’d both seen enough in our line of work in terms of how lies can destroy lives. We built a business off of lies. A very profitable one, I might add.
The first time was an accident. Even I could see that. The difference between choking a person and suffocating them isn’t altogether much. Some are weaker than others, James said. It can be hard to gauge. I’ll give him that. With her, it was easy to explain away. The coke in her toxicology report sort of stopped the trail for any real foul play. This, and club members always cover for other members. It goes with it. It’s what we do. It adds to the danger. It adds to the allure.
This isn’t to say it didn’t affect me. The first time a thing happens, you think maybe it’s an isolated incident. There’s a way to explain it all away. The second time, you take notice. You sense there may be a pattern there. You watch more closely for signs.
The second time was quick. I could see it unraveling. I could see him unraveling. James was a shark who’d gotten the taste of blood and was out to find more. Trouble is, what you’re seeking often has a way of seeking you.
She showed up late, and equally as important, alone. She took to my husband right away, as most women tend to do. Two weeks later, I learned two things: He’d invited her. And how to dispose of a body. Marriage may be about sacrifice, but I am not one to get my hands dirty. James assured me—he promised me—it was the last time. After all, hadn’t I seen? She hadn’t used the safe word. It was like she wanted to die.
The car ride from the Belmond to the party was a tense one. “How did you know?” he asked, with false calm. The tautness in his jaw and the crease between his brows easily gave him away.
“You were chatting with her on our app. Chats I moderate. A better question would be…how did you not think I would find out?” I said. Nina Hastings was a lie in more ways than one. She was different. She was a sign. My husband wasn’t going to stop. He was introducing a new level to an old game. He was testing more than my patience. He was testing my love.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Because it was apparent right away you were fucking her. “What good would it have done? It had already happened.”
“Jesus, Laurel. A normal wife would have said something. Until the incident at the office, you never even let on. And even then, it wasn’t about the affair, was it?”
I heard the question behind the question. Is it because of him? Do you have feelings for him? James hadn’t asked for an open marriage, but he was, in his own way, showing me he wanted one.
“You lied to me. What did you expect?”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I didn’t expect,” he told me, his voice full of edge. “I didn’t expect you to go and start fucking Max Hastings.”
I didn’t say anything. Not for a long while. I was thinking about Nina, about her lifeless body lying on the bed where her husband and I once had so much pleasure. I was thinking of her vacant stare and wondering why she hadn’t known better. I was thinking that maybe James is right; maybe I should have confronted him sooner. But where’s the honor in that?
A stoplight up ahead flashed yellow. He slammed on the brakes even though he had plenty of time to come to a full stop. “Laurel. Answer me.”
“Because I knew, okay? I knew this wouldn’t end well,” I said. He’d made that painfully obvious when he invited her to the club and then to work for us. No one can prepare you for what it’s like.
Dr. Miller talks about grief. Well, nothing could have prepared me for what it would be like to sit back and watch the person you love fall in love with someone who isn’t you. But that’s what I did. “Because I knew that eventually it had to end. And because you’re the one always talking about the importance of having an exit strategy.”
“Is that what he is to you? Your exit strategy?”
“No,” I replied, earnestly. “He was my safety net.”
“Gun to your head?”
I swallowed hard. “Gun to my head, that’s the only reason I seduced him.”
It wasn’t a lie. I knew James would eventually take things too far. He didn’t really love her—he was merely upping the stakes, making the game more enticing. Nina Hastings was not the first woman my husband killed intentionally. But with any luck, she will be the last.
“Something doesn’t add up for me, Laurel…” James says, pulling me into a spare bedroom. I see it; even in the dim light, I see it. That fire, it’s there in his eyes.
“Come on,” I said. “We have to get back to the party. We have to be seen. You know what’s at stake.”
He sucked in a hard breath and then let it out. “We will. But first, you owe me an explanation.”
My eyes scanned the room. There was a table lamp, and a desk chair, but not much else that could serve as a weapon. I’ve seen my husband kill more than one woman, and I don’t for a second doubt that I may be next. My heart leaped so high into my throat that I could have easily opened my mouth and touched it. I glanced wildly back at him, jerking my neck in the process. If there was ever a time to employ false bravado, this was it. “What, James?” I hissed. “What is so goddamned important that you’re putting our freedom—our pleasure—on the line?”
He looked serenely at me, head slightly lowered in what I took for curiosity, as though he were seeing me for the first time. What I saw reflected back to me was a gift, something offered with a carelessness that was appealing. “It just doesn’t add up. That bullshit story you fed me. It’s too neat—too pretty. I started fucking Nina Hastings…and you…you just happened to “run into” her husband?”
God, you’re such an idiot, James. “Of course not. I had to have a reason.”